Save Me
by Random Elf
Summary: A childs struggle for his fathers attention and love. How far will Faramir have to go to gain his fathers respect?
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

The small boy lay quivering under his bed, only half of his young face visible beneath the hanging sheets. One side of the dark coloured tunic covered in mud, a gaping rip around his right elbow revealing a large graze. Surely it was punishment enough that he was injured...Wasn't it? Amber hair clung to his cheeks, being held there by the slow drying salt tears. Only just 11, Faramir, youngest son of Denethor II lay hiding from his own father...

"Faramir?" The boy didn't flinch, the voice was gentle...Soft...Comforting

"I'm.." He paused, having to suppress a small sniffle "I'm under here Boromir..." The sheets were lifted up by the elder brother, gently coaxing him out into the small pools of sunlight that invaded the privacy of his own dark quarters.

"Its alright Faramir..." Wrapping his arms around his younger brother in a loving embrace "They found Diago, the stable boy said that it wasn't your fault she bucked, she was jumpy before they let you ride her..." Though he didn't get a verbal response from the boy, only another sniffle, causing him to only become more protective of the younger, rocking him back and forth as he let the boy cry, he himself recalling the days events.

He had watched Faramir mount the chestnut mare, also spotting his father in a nearby window, expecting failure from his youngest son as ever. Though Boromir himself was situated in a small alcove, once upon a time meant for a guard of some sort, though this post had not been manned for as long as he could remember. Faramir had barely left the courtyard before Diago whinned at something, bucking up and sending the boy straight onto his back with a cry of pain, watery blue eyes slammed shut as he listened to the sounds of his beloved horse run down the stairs into the city. Boromir had quickly rushed forward, though their father was ahead of him. Not the caring loving father that would check to see if his youngest was hurt. No, Denethor was seething, his son was nothing but an embarrassment once more. Faramir found himself pulled sharply to his feet and dragged inside the citadel. The eerie silence that befell upon the white yard was more than uncomfortable, even the guards and the stable boys that witnessed this thing on a daily basis were in a momentary silence. Boromir slinked back towards his rooms, rather surprised to hear his fathers voice booming through the palace

"FARAMIR!" What had his poor brother done now? The senior (by 5 years) sighed and slowly started the painstaking task of looking for his brother. Lastly coming to his rooms. And now here they were.

The final thoughts brought a further frown line to Boromirs brow "Faramir..." Pushing a flaming streak of hair from his face "Why was father looking for you? What did you do to upset him further?"

"I..." He sniffled, lowering his head in disgust and shame "He shouted at me...I didn't want to hear his lectures again...And he was going to...So I ran..." Sobs choking in his throat as he trailed off.  
"Shh...I'm here..." Sighing, Boromir wrapped his arms around Faramir as he broke down once more, resting his nose in the parting of the boys hair, taking in the scent of innocence and fear. "Look..." He began, rather unsure of what to say..."Why don't.." think Boromir think "You come with me to sword practise...Maybe father will be watching...He has been on occasions...You can show him how good you've gotten and... And I am sure you would impress him"

"I cant..." Cutting the elder off with a sad whisper "He took my sword" After Faramir had reached the stage in training where he knew enough about fighting to keep alive if needed, their father had pulled him from his training, banning him from practising...Just a waste of time Faramir, he had snarled, You will never be soldier...

"Oh...Of course.." The elder stated thoughtfully, indeed...Father had his brothers sword, he remembered seeing it in his study the day after it was confiscated, because Faramir had been caught practising in the forest with it. "I have a spare one...I mean...Its not the best but its rather light..." Squeezing the boy playfully in his strong arms "I'd love for you to practise with me..."

The boy seemed to stop moving for a time before looking up at his senior with an oh so cute smile upon his face "If...If you want me to...Then...I suppose...I will" Boromir just mirrored the younger's smile "Then we shall."

The two brothers, almost arm in arm carefully snuck down the long corridor with baited breath, each silently praying that their father would not storm out of his study and catch the younger. It was Faramir who spoke first once the fresh air hit their faces.

"You...You think I should go...go apologise to him?"

Boromir stopped dead and just stared at his brother "What in heavens name for?"  
"Well..." Lowering his eyes to the floor "For everything...For running away...For Diago...For.."  
"Being born?" Boromir arched a brow in amusement folding his arms across his chest, teasing the pre-teen, whom just blushed furiously, mumbling something inaudible, the elder just laughed quietly. Though inside, Boromir was far from laughing, in fact he was close to cursing allowed. He hated the fact that Faramir felt the need to apologise for all and every single one of their fathers temper tantrums, which usually ended up with the boy unable to walk for a day or so, with this thought Boromir let out an audible sigh

"What's wrong?" The younger quizzed, a rare smile on his face, breaking Boromir from his day dream

"I..." Blinking himself back to reality and passing Faramir the spare blade "Was wondering how long I was going to have to wait to beat you..."  
"Oh really?" Pushing a few strands of hair from his face and taking up his position, soon the air of the courtyard was filled with the sounds of boisterous laughter and the clinking of blades.

"Ah ha...Got you!" Boromir smirked and placed the tip of the sword in the gravel, watching his younger brother pout and rub the spot on his arm gingerly.

""Not fair..." Speaking in a small brattish voice that every child seemed to have perfected, though it was short lived as his face dropped, staring straight through his brother

"He's...He's at the window..."

"I know..." Boromir could feel the steely gaze boring into his back, quickly noticing the change in Faramir's position, quickly having to dodge a blow as the younger brother set into action, pulling every move he had ever been taught into his mind, to try and impress their father. Boromir was soon out of breath, truly shocked by the force behind the smaller fighter in front of him, soon finding himself backed against the wall with the cold taste of steal against his neck, though Faramir wasn't watching the elder, his eyes looking to the now empty window in confusion...disappointment...loss...

"Sorry..." Slowly lowering the blade, looking up at his shocked brother who just nodded and ruffled his hair

"You've gotten better..."

"FARAMIR!" Both boys jumped, though Faramirs feet never returned to the floor as he found himself dragged back, and staring up at the fuming parent, Denethors cheeks reddened from either the quick run down to the courtyard or just pure anger, it was hard to tell.

"WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?" The father boomed down at the boy.

"I...I wouldn't have hurt him...." He began, his voice barely more than a whisper, large blue eyes laced with tears. Boromir just watched in dismay as his father continued with the verbal bombardment of his younger brother. Unfortunately, for most involved, Denethor's voice carried rather a long way, causing a small crowd to gather, adding to poor Faramir's humiliation.

"YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN HAVE BEEN PRACTISING, NOT ONLY DO I HAVE A COWARD FOR A SON.." Words cut short by the distinctive sound of flesh upon flesh, the slap echoing around the filling courtyard as Faramir fell to the ground, his cheek burning a bright red, along with a small trail of crimson that fell from his newly split lip. Still Denethor continued with no signs of stopping. "BUT NOW YOU BLANTENTLY DISOBAY ME FURTHER BY DARING TO LEAVE YOUR QUARTERS" Each word cutting through the child like a knife, tears falling accompanying the unstoppable whimpers, crimson and salt mixing as one as they fell to the pure white stones of the citadel courtyard, marring them with the blood of the innocent child.

"My Lord Denethor..." The scene froze as if it were a painting, the youngest child curled up with his arms protectively around his head as if to shut away the light, the life that he was forced to live. The elder son's nails digging into the white stone of the wall behind him, for fear of moving to get Faramir in further trouble, his face contorted in a visible grimace, contrary to their fathers position. A single hand raised, ready to strike the boy once more, stopped sharply but an inch from the precious flesh. All eyes seemed to have shot to the messenger who tried not to look too startled at the scene before him.

"My.." Taking a moment to find his voice "My Lord Denethor I bring news fro Osgiliath..." No more was needed as the steward straightened to standing, nothing but a quiet growl escaping him.

"This will not go unpunished boy, mark my words."


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Anger, hatred, contempt and loathing all coursed through the veins of the elder brother, his eyes narrowed to mere slits as he just watched his father walk away. How could someone be hurt and beaten for no reason at all? By someone who was meant to care for them so much none the less. These were the thoughts that ran through Boromir's mind night after night as he stared into the darkness, hearing his brothers estranged whimpers from the next room.

It was that same sound that snapped him from his thoughts, glancing downwards to see the small pile of flesh and bones that was clinging to his legs, trembling and sobbing simultaneously.

"Oh Faramir.." He sighed more than anything else as he dropped down to his little brothers level, wrapping strengthened arms around the tiny frame, who was now burying his face in his big brothers chest.

"What...What did I do?" He managed to choke out pathetically, although he soon became aware that the teens attention was not entirely on him. In fact, Boromir was glaring daggers at almost every individual in the courtyard.

"Is there someone interesting to see here?" He snapped sharply, with enough force to break the crowd, not many would dare cross the favourite son of Denethor, let alone when he was angry. Slowly lowering his eyes to look down at his brothers calming body. The watery blue orbs were shut, though salt tears still streamed softly from them, just listening to his brothers voice growling in his chest, though that comfort was soon pulled from him as he was placed back up the stone, confronted with the worried expression on Boromir's face.

"Does it hurt?" Eyes didn't meet as the elder pulled a rag from his pocket and started to wipe away the mixture of blood and tears from his dear brothers face. The strawberry head just bobbed in a nod, slowly raising his hands to cup his brothers face, looking directly into the green tinted orbs with a look of confusion and fear that was becoming more and more frequent. Looking for answers. For the promise that it wouldn't happen again. That it would be alright...That she was coming back. Boromir just sighed.

"I don't know my brother..." Carefully pushing away a strand of hair and hooking it behind Faramir's ear. "He's...still grieving.." Trying to find some logical explanation "You...Just look so much like her..." Somehow his tone filled with remorse at the simple statement. It was true. Faramir looked too much like their mother for Denethor to cope with, or that was what everyone else seemed to put the stewards behaviour down to. The high chiselled cheek bones, brushed by fine red hair with each movement, the small kinks that bobbed with each gracefully step and movement that gave many the impression that there must have been some elven blood in the child. Though alas it were not so, the future Prince of Ithilian could still be hurt. Could still be broken.

Slowly the two brothers rose, Faramir's cheek starting to bruise from the strong hand of his father, Boromir, his arm still wrapped around the younger's shoulder as they made their way into the cold halls of the King's Palace.

They walked in near silence, only broken by the childish whimpers that still escaped the younger boy. Boromir accompanied his brother to his chambers, entering the room first, with an arched brow he walked to the bed.

"What's this?" Holding up a small letter that had been left upon the pillow, starting to hold it up to the light to try and read it.

"DON'T!" Faramir leapt forward and grabbed the parchment, holding it close to his chest, blushing furiously. Boromir was certainly amused by his brothers sudden change in attitude to say the least., though it only added to the sense of relief that was slowly started to wash over him.

"Oh?" Arching a brow and smirking as he crossed his arms over his chest "And whys that..." Reaching over and pulling the letter out from above Faramir, who just squealed in protest and desperately tried to retrieve the letter. The tears had stopped, leaving only burning red eyes that just stared at his brothers hands.

"Please...Boromir ....Don't...." Acting as if nothing else was wrong in the world, as was the young boys ways, he had more strength than Denethor could ever know...Ever fathom. "Its...." Dropping his hands and just looking down at the floor, his voice falling to a shy whisper "Its from someone...Its private..."

"Private hmm?" The elder sat back upon his brothers bed and held out the paper for his brother to take. "Who's it from?" One thing about the two was that there were no secrets between them.. What ever happened the two of them knew about it. "Is it your female fancy huh?" Teasing as much as possible, though his chuckles choked in his throat as he watched Faramir nod. "You have a suitor?"

"No...Not so much a suitor..."

"Well? Who is she? She must think highly of you to send you love letters..."

"Its...Not a love letter...She's...." Faramir stuttered, trying to find words that failed him. "The new kitchen maid...Her name is Helena..."

"Helena..." Boromir mused aloud, resting his head in his hands "The young girl..." Sounding as if as if he was trying to sort these things out in his own mind. "Yes...She's rather attractive"

Helena had arrived at the palace about a fortnight previous. Long chocolate brown hair that reached down to her waist when left to its own accord, though usually kept up under a scarf as was the regulations of the palace. And deep mysterious eyes, that now only kept their focus on the youngest son. They were both the same age, Faramir but a month or so older than the girl, though it made no difference to them.

At present, the new "Romeo" of the palace was smiling rather warmly as his eyes flickered over the page, remembering the first day they had met as he had been doing more and more so. Implanting the brief moment deep in his memory. He had been in the pantry, talking to one of the older women who was cleaning up yet another graze on the boys knee. She had entered coyly, in total silence, and just waited to be noticed and acknowledge when the time was suitable for everyone else and immediately Faramir's eyes had set alight, as hers did also.

"Is..." He spoke quietly, not looking up to his brother "Is it foolish to say I am in love?" Boromir's chin unhinged slightly, blinking rather quickly as he shifted on the bed .

"You don't even know what love is Faramir..." He spoke softly with a tone much like a loving father to a son, a tone that Faramir rarely heard in his everyday life...Or rather...Existence. Hazel eyes just watched as the boy crossed the room, carefully putting the letter in a drawer, that seemed already half filled with the lovingly folded parchment. "You shouldn't leave them in such an obvious place"

"I know" Came the quick reply "But father never steps foot in my chambers, let alone time or the energy to go through my belongings"  
"But if he did..." The elder began, but was once more cut off

"But if he did he would be angered. His son in love with a servant. She would be sent away, and I would.....Would.." He trailed off, his back to his brother, unable to see the look of pure pride upon Boromir's face.

"You would risk all that for her, my brother?"

"That twice over" He spoke gravely, slowly edging towards his wardrobe, pulling it open with a gentle click of the catch, disappearing into the shadow of the structure as he started to search through it. "I..." Pausing to push a couple of heavy cloaks aside. "I purchased this down in the city..." Pulling out a small bundle of white material "It gets very cold down in the servants quarters, and I'm afraid her being caught if she keeps coming up here in the dead of night" Now it was Faramir's turn to be cut off.

"She sleeps in here?" Boromir quickly choked out the words as he quickly got to his feet and swiftly spun the boy around.

"Yes...The beds big enough" The younger nodded with just as much speed

"You share a bed?" Raising his voice in slight disbelief

"Is..." Flinching at his brothers tone and automatically taking a step back, almost falling into the wardrobe "Is that a bad thing? I just don't like her being cold...And its warmer up here..." Starting on an explanation of pure innocence and naivety.

"Yes ...I mean...." Suddenly Boromir stopped, raising a hand to scratch his hair as he just watched his brother, slowly pieces coming together. The concept of human reproduction hadn't been explained had it? But why? Boromir himself had been told at a young age, much younger than the age of his brother now, by his father when they...Ahh there was the answer. Denethor didn't want an heir by the younger, weaker son. A further reminder of the pain he lived from day to day. But yet to let the boy live in naivety of the ways of the world, was not right. And thought to be even below his fathers standards. Apparently not. This thought only infuriated Boromir further.

"Faramir...Boys and girls.." Blushing a deep crimson, much to amusement of his brother who just started to laugh. "They cant share a bed...And..." He trailed off, lost for words, glad of Faramirs interruption.

"I kissed her" The three whispered words shocked the elder further.

"You kissed her?" Receiving just a nod in return, before the younger brother held out the bundle in his arms, as if Faramir was trying to push the thoughts of the kiss out of his mind. "It's a nightdress...Do you think she'll like it?". Boromir just smiled and unwrapped the heavy material, callused fingers trailing over the delicate stitching of the dress.

"The embroidery is gold thread..."  
"That I see..." The elder spoke softly, his voice filled with pride for his little brother. The proper gentlemen. The true romantic of the Citadel. "It must have been expensive"

"I worked with the women who made it. She was very kind, I sat in the corner and wtchedd as the thread was pulled in and out of the material and..." Blinking himself out of his speech "You think she'll like it?" Faramir looked up to his elder brother, searching for approval

"No...I don't..." Watching as his little brothers face dropped before ruffling the fire strands of the boy's hair "I think she will love it" Once again the younger boys facial expressions changed once more to a wide grin   
"Do you really think so Boromir?" Though the only reply he got was being grabbed around the waist and thrown onto the bed with a roll of the hazel eyes.

"Come on...Its almost time for supper" Who ever thought that such a simple statement could cause such a mood change? The younger brother just nodded and quickly got up, pulling the ripped and muddied tunic over his head and throwing it to the ground. His brother just grimaced as he looked over his brother's skinny, marred torso, littered with bruises and strike marks from the years of abuse under Lord Denethors hand. Within a moment the boy was dressed in a fine tunic of black velvet, standing in front of the taller boy as he helped him tie a length of black material around his head to keep his hair from his face.

"Do you think father will still be annoyed?"

"Just don't think about it Faramir..." Dropping to his knees and pulling his brother into a loving embrace "Don't think about it. Concentrate on getting through dinner...And giving Helena that dress later tonight"  
"Yes sir..." Faramir whispered into his brother's shoulder, his nose resting in the crock of his neck "Thank you Boromir." And but a moment later the two brothers were walking down the long corridor towards the hall.

It wasn't a particularly long walk, though even in their usual complete silence, it seemed much longer. For Faramir the sense of dread seemed to increase with each small step. The fear of knowing that every action, every word would get him punished in some way or another. Though the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil that ebbed through ever fibre, every vein, every neuron, every sense of his being. The longing, no, not longing, the needing to be accepted by his father. All he wanted was to see the glint of pride in Denethors eyes that the younger saw each time the grey orbs were set upon Boromir, that always seemed to instantly fade as they moved towards him. He tried, tried as much as his small frame allowed him, to please the man. To obey every order, comply to the ever growing list of rules...Though it was impossible.

Boromirs thoughts on the other hand, were of a more positive nature. His younger brother, was too selfless for his own good, that was becoming clear. But yet, the boy had strength. A strength that surpassed his own in many, many ways. A fighting force that never seemed to die in the boy, the ability and need to carry on when all forces were against him, to keep him from the bottomless black abyss of darkness that seemed so tempting to himself, let alone Faramir. Not a physical strength, but Faramir was unstoppable and no one, not event their father would pull him to a grinding halt. He could only see the surface battle that his little brother was fighting, though the battle within the boy was tougher than any that he himself would have to face.

After what seemed like a small eternity, two sets of booted feet set foot upon the marble stone floor of the dining hall, faced with the long table, that only added to the bitter bite of emptiness that seemed to fill the entire palace. Then at the very end of the table sat the Steward of Gondor himself. Fingertips pressed together, the fur lined sleeves of the cloak had slid down past his elbows, revealing part of the slate grey under tunic that lay beneath. Grey. ALWAYS GREY. Much like Denethors personality. Unreadable, natural, a dark grey fog that enveloped what ever pray the steward was up against...Raising but a single finger, the kitchen staff appeared with silver platters of fineries, this only made the two sons squirm slightly. They were late, almost immediately scuffling forward to take their seats in silence. Slowly the mans head turned, the dark eyes fixing firmly upon his youngest son.

"Your late" He sneered, one side of his mouthed hitched up, small speaks of saliva protruding from his mouth to land on the hair of his son, the flaming red strands that fell over Faramir's bowed head.

"My apologies father" His voice barely audible over the clatter of the plates being placed upon the wooden table. The boy remained near motionless for a time until he felt a small piece of parchment being dropped into his lap, and a skirt brushing against the skin of his hand. Such little contact was enough to put a smile upon Faramir's face, no matter what situation he was in.

"What's so funny boy?" Where the words that snapped him back to the cruel reality in which he lived day after torturous day. It was but a split world...Of that he was becoming certain, with Helena and Boromir on one side, as his heaven and saviours, then his father upon the other end of the scale.

"Nothing sir....Sorry" Came the trademark apology as the boy slowly curled his fingers around his cutlery, looking to his brother for a sign of comfort, though all the dazzling blue eyes found was the crown of Boromir's bowed head. The younger brother followed suit, mimicking his brothers stance as he took up the silver fork.

"Who....Said you could eat..." Denethor slowly sat back, placing his own eating utensils upon his already emptied plate, aware that both sons were now looking upon him. Faramir just stared for a moment before pulling his hands back to his lap, while Boromir just watched.

"May...May I eat father?" His clear voice ringing like a bell in the cold hall.

"Do you think your behaviour today allows for food?" Pressing his fingers together once more, grey eyes sparkling though not in a way the young boy liked nor appreciated. Enjoying and taking pleasure at seeing his son squirming before him. Enjoying his pain.

"I...."  
"You what?" A smirk appearing upon the wrinkling face "Do you think you deserve all the food that is set before you? Do you think you _deserve_ to eat beside myself and Boromir?" The other son just looked to his brother with complete pity, as Faramir stumbled and stuttered over his words before giving up entirely. The hall sat in silence. No movement, until the youngest son slowly shook his head and stood up, the paper dropping from his lap onto the floor as he walked around his chair and pushed it back to the table, looking towards the food longingly.

"Father surely you don't intend to starve him?" Boromir carefully questioned, looking between one and the other.

"What I intend to do to him, my son..." Slowly looking towards Boromir with a gentle smile "Should not worry you...Now ..." Clicking his fingers as the sweets were brought in, though Boromir's eyes were once more upon his little brother who was slowly walking towards the door, his head limp, eyes fixed upon the floor. From experience the elder had learned it was best to keep quiet, for both their sakes...He would get his brother a meal later this eve.

"Why do you hate me so much sir?" Both Boromir and Denethor's head snapped around to the owner of the voice. Faramir was standing half way between them and the door, small hands clenched into fists, his back to the two. "Just...Just out of interest..." His voice quiet still as he turned and looked up at his father, with the look of pure confusion and honesty. "What have I done to shun myself from your favour father?" Boromir felt his breath hitch in throat, suddenly feeling the urge to vomit climb up his neck, silently begging Faramir to just run....Slowly, Denethor rose to his feet, shaking his head ever so slowly

"I don't hate you Faramir..." For just one second, the boy had hope before it was once more snatched from him with a snarl "I loath you" Within no time at all, the youngster felt salt tears pricking at the skin of his chin as silent tears fell. Boromir rose to his feet and started over to his brother  
"Come on Faramir..." But he was stopped by a sharp hand upon his shoulder. Emerald eyes slowly looked up to its owner, soon feeling himself physically pushed back down into his seat.

"Your brother wishes to speak...." Slowly sitting down, looking unnervingly calm as he folded his arms across his chest "And we will let him...Continue Faramir"

The boy shifted uncomfortably on his feet for a moment, his voice trembling with fear, his father had unnerved him totally. Raising a hand to wipe away his tears, he cleared his throat. In his opinion, if he were to be punished anyway, for both speaking out of turn and the earlier events, shouldn't he just have his say? Perhaps it would help push out the stopper that trapped him. The prison. The bottle. The prison.

"You..." Clearing his throat and dropping his hands, fingers tangling idly in the velvet of his tunic "You hate me...For a reason beyond my c-c-control...And I try to please you, and try to make you proud..." His voice starting to tremble beyond control as his body threatened to rack with the sobs that were stuck in his chest. "I...r-r-really do try..." Boromir rose once more, ignoring his fathers grunt of disgust as he moved quickly to his little brother and wrapped his arms around the trembling form, his own back to his father so Faramir could continue his speech if he needed to.

Faramir remained silent for a moment or so, just resting his face against his brothers broad shoulder, panting gently, calming down enough to allow his brother to pull from him.

"Are you alright?" It was a feeble whisper from the elder, falling back onto his rear as he felt small hands push sharply against his shoulders as his brother found his strength once more.

"Is nothing ever good enough for you father?" In a few quick strides the boy was standing opposite a smirking Denethor, small hands slamming down upon the table top as something inside the young man snapped.

"How is it that Boromir can do no wrong? That everything is MY fault. NO MATTER WHAT GOES WRONG ITS ME ISNT IT? I WILL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU WILL I?" Panting as his voice dropped to a deadly whisper "Never good enough to be your son" The words echoed around them. Boromir was truly in shook, shrinking back against the nearest wall as Denethor got to his feet, towering over the fuming child. Faramir's face was a deep crimson. Years of anger bubbling inside of him as he glared up at the pale man. Nothing happened for what seemed like a lifetime, that was until Denethor's hand slowly rose. Boromir winced and waited for the blow that was sure to follow, waiting for the sound of his brothers whimper as the callused hand made contact with the precious skin of Faramir's cheek. The younger just glared up at the man, his eyes alight with passion and anger, he too was waiting for the hand to strike, feeling his heart beating like a humming birds wings within his chest. But, the blow did not fall, instead the head of the city signalled to two guards, bringing them forward and speaking with a voice filled of hatred and spite.

"Take this..._boy._..Into the dungeons, treat him as you would any traitor"  
"No!" Came the cry from Boromir as he lunged forward but soon stopped himself as he watched the guards try to restrain the nearly hysterical boy

"JUST BECAUSE I LOOK LIKE HER" Denethor just turned his back as his son was lifted from the floor, one guard holding his squirming body while the other controlled his kicking legs.

"YOU WISH I WAS DOWN THERE WITH HER. YOU WISH IT WAS JUST YOU AND BOROMIR. THAT I WAS DEAD TOO..." His shouts turning into desperate sobs "You wish I...Was buried with her..." These words were enough to cause the father to spin on his heals, grabbing a fist full of Faramir's hair.  
"There you are wrong boy! Instead of her. You should be there instead of her!" Striking the pre-teen sharply across the face before moving swiftly to the door "Instead of her" The words left in the mans wake, leaving a silence in the hall before Faramir's sobs started bouncing from the walls once more.

Boromir just watched in dismay as his brother was dragged from the hall, begging and pleading for big brother to save him, though Boromir knew he was helpless to do anything.

Soon there was nothing left, apart from the dying cries as Faramir was carried out of earshot. The terrified screams still echoing in Boromir's ears as he glanced around the empty hall, picking up the forgotten letter from under his brothers chair. Tears starting to fall from his own eyes before he dropped to his knees, curling up in the corner on the hall, as the eldest son of Denethor started to weep.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

He remained alone, with no more tears left to cry for his brother. Just staring blankly at the window as he watched the last of the sunlight disappear over the horizon, the golden colour leaving his skin in an eerie darkness, making him look more like the un-dead than a small Prince. Boromir just listening the sounds of his own breaths leaving him, swearing that he could hear his brothers cries that drifted up from the dungeons. Though, it was just his imagination running away with him. Thinking about what pain and torment was in store for his brother this time. Only brought from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps upon the floor.

"Faramir?" Sitting up sharply, almost scrambling to his feet to look at the person in the doorway, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"Faramir is still in the dungeons, and that is where he is to remain" Denethor's own orbs searching his eldest as he walked closer "Is that understood?"  
"Yes Sir..." Boromir let out a silent sigh as he just nodded, blinking as he watched his father drop to his knees in front of him.

"Boromir...My son..." Placing a kiss on the crown of his sons head, his hands still cupping the teens face "Do not worry for him. There is no time, nor need for it." His voice sounding in the soft tone that a father should use on their children, as he always did on his son...The only son that mattered to him anyhow. "You are my heir Boromir, and you make me proud in everything you do" Taking a step back, just looking at the boy whom as frowning slightly.

"Doesn't Faramir make you proud Father?" Though his question was overlooked, a small glint of anger rising in the mans eyes though it soon disappeared.

"You are not to go into the dungeons. That is all..." turning his back on Boromir as he waved his hand dismissively. The teen easily got the hint and nodded, turning and walking slowly out of the room.

He stopped, dead, in a split in the dark hallway. Three ways to choose from, three paths to take. To the left, his chambers, and a restless sleep. To the right, the road to the dungeons, to play brother and saviour. The emerald orbs flickered between one, then the other, before shaking his head and quickly continuing his journey straight ahead. Within a moment he felt the crisp night air upon his face, allowing a clean breath of relief to leave him, as he walked silently through the gardens. The small trees creating a canopy over the lad as he slowly walked along the white gravel path which soon opened into the small clearing, his destination. Blade callused reached down to pick up the rose that lay at his feet, as ever, carefully placed by his brother, as it had been every morning since their mothers death. Boromir dropped to his knees, just staring at the stone in front of him, a thorn digging into his fingertip drawing blood, that slowly made a path down his hand, mimicking the flow of tears that had re-emerged.

"Mother...I'm lost..." Though no answer came as he clasped his hands together around the rose in prayer. "Save me...Save Faramir..." Slowly looking down as a salt tear dripped from a petal of the flower and fell to the floor stained pink.

"You go!"

"No you go!" Boromir had made his way down into the dungeons, now standing in the shadows as he listened to the two half-witted guards arguing over one petty thing or another. The corridor was long, dark and damp, the putrid smell of blood and flesh rot seemed to weep out through the many small holes in the brick work; that seemed to do nothing except put a deathly chill in the prisoners. Boromir was so engrossed with trying to prevent himself from vomiting, that he didn't notice as one of the turnkeys gave a grunt of defeat and disappear down into the darkness of the corridor.

But Faramir did. His cell was at the very end. The small food port in the door was low enough to allow him to see out. To see the man approach the small stone room. To notice the eyes that never met his own. To notice the three thronged whip in his hand. Eyes widening as he scurried back to the furthest corner of the cell, trying to curl into a tiny ball, holding onto childish hopes that he wouldn't be seen.

"Get up" A voice that tried so hard to be emotionless and cold. "I said..." In a few short strides and the man was towering over the boy, pulling him sharply to his feet in one swift movement. "Get up" Faramir's chin slowly rose as he looked up at the dark man Make this not real. Make this a nightmare And as if for one beautiful moment, he heard the whip drop to the floor. Thank god. Thank god Though these thoughts were shaken from him as he heard the clank of metal. His hands were wrenched above his head, first one then the other; watching with a vacant expression as steal cuffs were clamped around the fragile wrists before being attached to a small chain in the ceiling, the small child letting out a small grunt of displeasure and protest as the chains stretched his arms, having to stand on his toes to stop his bones from snapping. Suddenly, a shiver ran through him, feeling the cold bite of metal on the back of his neck. A knife, that was pulled down sharply, tearing away the fabric of his tunic. Once more, Faramir just stared as the fine cloth was thrown aside.

"My mother gave me that" It was just a hollow, empty statement, cut off as the boy gasped, feeling a draft whip around his legs and groin and watched his leggings join the tunic. "What...What are you going to do to me?" The boy stood naked, shaking and shackled to the ceiling, looking around in a kind of tranced state. Let this be a nightmare

The only answer he got was a CRACK. Or rather, three, one from each of the small strands of leather. His body jolted, teeth cutting through the soft flesh of his lip, pain ebbed through every part of him, though his attentions was focussed on something else. Something was trailing down the inside of his forearm, tear laddened eyes looked up and just watched as the dark liquid appeared from under the cuffs, watching as it moved with a kind of sick grace down past his elbow.

"I'm bleeding" They were the last audible words to escape his lips before the whip came down again and again until he was pushed into the blessed state of unconsciousness.

As hard as he tried, upon hearing his brothers cries of pain, Boromir's stomach gave a lurch, causing the teen to drop sharply to his knees as a mixture of half digested food and bile squeezed up his throat before spilling onto the slimy stones in front of him. Sitting back on his heals he rose a hand to wipe the last of the nauseating substance from his trembling lips, his skin a milky white tinged with green, that looked almost translucent in the moonlight. Finally he staggered to his feet, one hand set firmly upon the wall for support. He could not tell how long he just stood there, his mind frozen in disbelief of what had just happened to his dear brother. Though at some point, he staggered down the hall, just staring in at the motionless figure, his fingers wrapped around the bars, his forehead pressed against the dirty metal as tears of sympathy shimmered in the moonlight.

It was cold. Slowly, bloodied eyes opened to just stare at the wall. He was shivering. Fresh blood was trickling from every orifice, from both natural and unnatural partings in the boys skin. With a grunt he pulled his arms from their position, curled tightly across his torso, wincing as he pulled apart the drying blood cells as he stood up, listening to the soft sound of suction as his limbs righted themselves. Taking a step forward, as if testing his legs he moved into the small pool of light in the centre of the cell and just stared at his body. Oh Gods

"Oh Gods" Faramir's head snapped up and stared at the figure at the door

"Boromir!" His voice raspy from crying. Ignoring the pain that was trying to take over every part of his body, he ran to the door, bloody arms reach out in almost desperation through the bars as the child almost immediately started to sob. "Get me out! Get me out!" The elder brother near fell backwards, just staring at the arms that flailed around like injured snakes that tried to snare him so avidly. "Please Boromir....Boromir.." The voice trailed off as the arms disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared in the first place.

His last words gave way to further sobs as he slid down the door, splinters from the course wood firmly logging themselves under already bloody fingernail. The boy was giving up. Curling into a tight fetal ball at the base of the door, trying to keep in any body heat that seemed to be escaping with his still flowing blood. But yet still, the feeble pleadings still escaped his bruised lips. Begging Boromir to save him this time. To wake him from this nightmare, to wrap him in his strong arms and carry him to his own bed to push him into happy dreams.

"Faramir...Don't cry...Brother, please don't cry..." Boromir's own voice threatening to crack with each syllable. His mind flying at a racing speed...Just as desperate to free Faramir as his brother was to get loose.

"Lord Boromir?" The teen sharply span around to face the speaker. Hazel eyes meeting dark, stern ones, owned by the broad man that now stood in front of him.

"Hamoon..." Boromir's knees almost giving way as he looked up at the Captain of his fathers guards. "I was just..." Cutting his words short as he felt a gentle hand upon his shoulder pushing him backwards carefully. His eyes widening as he watched the mans actions, a hand to the pocket...Out came a key...Slid into the look before Hamoon spoke.

"Keep him quiet Boromir..." The words were simple, but said enough. Boromir just nodded quickly as he watched the man drop to his knees to place a light cloak around the naked boy.

Faramir's eyes shot open as if the whip had been brought down upon his back once more. Immediately he began to move, pushing the cloak from his freshly marred shoulders, scrambling to his feet, and within a moment...He was out of the door, running into the darkness.

As his brother whirled past him disappearing down the long dark hall, Boromir just stared at Hamoon with an open mouth, though it was but a split second before the eldest took after his younger brother, who was out of site, but yet could still be followed, the sound of small feet slapping distinctively against the cold stone.

"Faramir...Faramir wait..." He hissed as he eventually got a grip on the boys wrist. Faramir just looked up at him, his eyes filled with a wild fire, a force that could not be reasoned with.

"Let me GO!" Trying to pull sharply from his brother without luck. After three or four more attempts, the boy, much like a frightened animal did only what he could do. Sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of his brothers wrist, he waited till he was free and off he disappeared once more.

Boromir let out a howl of pain, staring down at his now bleeding limb. Shocked. "What has he done..." The words were whispered as he just starred at a nearby painting of their father. Boromir's mind unable to set to where his brother would go...Where would he...

"LET ME GO TOO COME BACK" He didn't have to wait long, soon his brothers shouts filled the palace once more. Tears continuing to fall, Boromir slowly made his way to the gardens, just staring through the trees at the tiny figure, looking like some grotesque shape of a former human being.

"Let me go too...Let me go..." Fingers digging at the grass, Boromir moved forward and wrapped his arms around his hysterical brother.

"Faramir I'm here...Please...Calm down..." Faramir slowly stopped struggling and just starred at the white stone before them, his whole injured frame shaking.

"Why did she leave....Why did she have to die"


	4. Epilogue

Epilogue

Faramir's hand clasped Helena's. Both standing in the window of his rooms and just staring out at the courtyard. Puberty had been kind on the boy, now a handsome lad of nearly 16, not nearly as fragile as most had thought he to be.

"Will he be back?" It was her voice that came first, Faramir couldn't speak as he just stared down at the filling area below them. His brother amongst their ranks. His brother setting out to war.  
"Yes" The word was all too firm. "He will be"

Let this be a nightmare


End file.
